

I was 3 when I attended my parents’ wedding. I guess I should note not my dad and birth mom.
I met my birth mom many years later. She stressed how she and my dad were briefly married when I was born, so I wasn’t a bastard, and that she gave birth in FL, not MI — the only home I remembered — so I wasn’t a damn Yankee. Like she did me some kindness in both those cases.
That was the attitude that led me to be quite happy with my circumstances — acting like I was in her debt over things I had no care over. So yeah, I attended the wedding of my dad and the only woman I’ll ever call mom.
I had to research that phrase for a bit to make sure there are no racial connotations because… yeah.